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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23882506">Time: Wretched and Joyful</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nolongersun/pseuds/nolongersun'>nolongersun</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Brazil Arc, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Emotions, Hurt/Comfort, Karasuno, Light Angst, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Nationals arc, Nekoma, Post-Time Skip, Time Skips, Tokyo Training Camp, Training Camp, do not ask me how but i cried while writing this??, i guess you can call it that???, idk how to describe this but like honestly its one of my fav pieces i did, no beta i will just die</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:29:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23882506</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nolongersun/pseuds/nolongersun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m going to Nationals.” </p><p>Hinata whispered it into the line. It was late, far too late for someone who spent the day playing a nasty five set match that left his lungs at a lost for words and his muscles screaming in an ugly contrast. He was curled into the corner of his bed, holding his phone against his cheek tightly.</p><p>There was a breath of silence on the other line. Hesitation.</p><p>“I’ll see you there, Shouyou.”</p><p>or, Kenma and Hinata's relationship through the years.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>264</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Time: Wretched and Joyful</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey!! this fic jumps around a lot so beware. i was in an introspective Mood so i wrote this piece, which i really like so im hoping you guys also like this. it took a while to arrange the sections in what i feel is smoothest. </p><p>anyway, i really hope you guys enjoy this!! leave a kudos/comment/bookmark if you do.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“I promise you.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>They met on the street.</p><p>Hinata had unintentionally run too far, too fast, too distracted, and now he was blocks away from where he should be. </p><p>He was about to turn around and return to where his teammates were surely waiting for him with sour faces of casual disappointment when he saw a boy. Sitting on the corner of the block, phone in hand. The more he stood there, the more aware he became of the invisible, universal force that was pushing his legs forward one by one until he was steps closer and facing the boy.</p><p>He has blond hair with black roots, Hinata notes.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I promise that one day I’ll make you happy to play volleyball.”</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Pedro was quiet. Hinata was used to quiet.</p><p>His roommate kept to himself but preferred to watch his anime in the living room, one of the few times Hinata saw him. Hinata would act upon this opportunity by making dinner (a horrendous combination of the comfortable Japanese food he was used to, and the new local food of the area he now lived in) and serve the two of them while he joined Pedro on the couch.</p><p>One of the first things Hinata found out about his roommate was his love for anime. Hinata knew it was the only Japanese he’d hear for the majority of his time here, so he had no protests with his roommate’s interest. Staring at the Portuguese subtitles while he listened helped him learn the necessary language he needed, and it still brought a sense of home that he was desperate for his first few weeks in Brazil.</p><p>The second thing he learned about his roommate was that he was reluctant to ever leave the apartment. Pedro had few friends from school that occasionally visited (which was exciting for Hinata as they bombarded him with questions about why he came to Brazil, and what it was like in Japan). But Pedro barely ever <em>left</em>, and even towards the end of his two years there did Hinata struggled to get Pedro to interact with his other friends he gained from volleyball.</p><p>The third thing he learned was that Pedro also watched a lot of YouTube. </p><p>It was a pleasant surprise when Hinata returned home from a long day of warm sand and tired muscles to see his friend’s face on their TV. Pedro was hunched up under a blanket and subconsciously leaning closer to the screen as he laughed lightly at the gameplay. </p><p>“Oh! You’re watching Kenma!” </p><p>Pedro turned to him, an eyebrow raised. “You’re a fan of kodzuken, too?”</p><p>“Not really. I mean-- yes, I’m a fan. Kenma is really close friend of mine!” His tongue stumbles over the foreign words, but he manages to get his sentence across as Pedro pauses the video in his surprise.</p><p>“You personally know <em>the</em> kodzuken?”</p>
<hr/><p>“I’m going to Nationals.” </p><p>Hinata whispered it into the line. It was late, far too late for someone who spent the day playing a nasty five set match that left his lungs at a lost for words and his muscles screaming in an ugly contrast. He was curled into the corner of his bed, holding his phone against his cheek tightly.</p><p>There was a breath of silence on the other line. Hesitation.</p><p>“I’ll see you there, Shouyou.”</p>
<hr/><p>Hinata sees blond hair with black roots as he steps into the gym.</p><p>Kenma is the setter of Nekoma, the cats Karasuno promised to fight long before it concerned any of the current players. Kenma stands before him, a light smile in place. His team is beside him, <em>strong</em>, according to Kenma. There was a glint of confidence reflected in his eye when he had said that, Hinata recalls. </p><p>Hinata realizes what he meant when he said Kenma will see him later.</p><p>This will be fun, he thinks. He looks forward to this practice match.</p>
<hr/><p>Kenma always carried his phone on him.</p><p>It was a safety net for him, something he could rely on when he felt his palms start to sweat and his heart start to race from a conversation that began to tiptoe his fine line of comfort and discomfort. He kept his phone in his hands, so he could avoid making eye contact and putting effort into a conversation. If he was always in the middle of a game he couldn’t pause, his friends and teammates and classmates would understand. People began to expect less of him on the subject of social interactions. </p><p>Kenma was always in the middle of a game when he carried his phone, they all knew.</p><p>Lately, that hasn’t been true.</p><p>Kenma is staring at his phone while he moves his fingers quickly across the screen, defeating a boss of sorts. Around him, the team talks on their way to get lunch. The conversation switches between sibling troubles and homework misunderstandings. </p><p>Kenma is brought into the conversation for a few comments and pieces of opinion. He complies, but his fingers never stop moving across his screen. His eyes never wander. The team doesn’t think anything of the typical Kenma behavior.</p><p>Except, they note, his phone is in portrait mode instead of landscape. And the only fingers moving are what appears to be thumbs on a keyboard.</p><p>No one says anything, and they all pretend they haven’t noticed.</p>
<hr/><p>“What are you doing?” </p><p>Blond hair with black roots look at Hinata. His eyes stare at him with as intense an analysis one could do with only a few seconds to spare, before casting their eyesight downward and looking at the ground in front of him.</p><p>“I’m lost.”</p>
<hr/><p>Kenma’s heart swelled uncomfortably in his chest, as a tight feeling of bittersweet despair, a feeling which only came when he got too nostalgic or too contemplative, filled him. He looked at the head of loud orange shoved into his chest in a desperate attempt of comfort as the other person slept. </p><p>Kenma wanted this, so, so badly. </p><p>The clock on the wall ticked behind him, announcing the change in hour that decided a new day had started. Kenma glared at the object, eyebrows tilting in frustration at the reminded.</p><p>Hinata would be going to the airport tomorrow, now today, in only a few short hours.</p>
<hr/><p>The first time they saw each other outside of volleyball related activities was an accident. </p><p>Hinata was visiting an aunt who happened to live in Kenma’s neighborhood, unbeknownst to the both of them. </p><p>Kenma saw him in the middle of the street, on his way to meet Kuroo at the park. There he saw, a head full of loud orange, sitting on the corner of the block. He had a phone in hand, most likely messaging someone about his predicament.</p><p>“You’re from out of town.” </p><p>Kenma muttered the words inches away from the boy. Hinata, whose attention was focused on his S.O.S. message, jumped slightly. Their eyes locked, recognition flooding Hinata’s face, and a wide smile was soon plastered across rosy cheeks.</p><p>“Kenma!”</p><p>He smiled, and quickly found out Hinata’s situation as the younger boy began explaining right away. Hinata insisted they locked arms as Kenma led him back to the safety of his aunt’s home, where his mother and sister would be waiting with sour faces of casual disappointment.</p>
<hr/><p><em>11:27 PM</em><br/>
<em>Hinata Shouyou:</em><br/>
Should I go to Brazil?</p><p>
  <em> Message received.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Blond hair with black roots looked down at his hands. Hinata saw a smartphone in place, a prop he can imagine used in these sorts of situations. </p><p>“You’re from out of town?”</p><p>A shift, edging slightly farther from him. “Yeah.”</p><p>The boy was playing a game, Hinata realized. Nimble fingers moved across a glass screen, tapping quickly at fictional monsters.</p><p>“Is that thing fun?”</p><p>“Not really. I’m just passing time.”</p><p>“Oh…” Hinata trails off. His eyes begin to wander in his low patience and attention span fueled behavior, looking for something new to focus on. He eyes the boy, noting his unusual attire. His jumpsuit is a red, the pants sporting a white stripe along the outer side of his legs, his jacket unzipped. The hood of his jacket rested behind his head and brushed his hair as his body shifted with every deep breath, jostling artificial blond. </p><p>Hinata’s eyes move lower. They see volleyball shoes.</p>
<hr/><p>Kenma started his YouTube channel on a Thursday afternoon after watching a particularly interesting play through of one of his favorite games.</p><p>He could do that, he realizes some point through watching.</p><p>It didn’t require warm up jogs that burn his lungs, or extra practices to adjust to a new spiker. This required no more out of him than he was already doing. </p><p>The account was easy to set up. Kenma entered his email, and quickly typed in a username that only left him staring at his screen for five minutes while he thought of it. Kodzuken, he felt, wasn’t so bad of a username. It had a bit of a ring to it. </p><p>He thought about whether to tell his friends of his channel. They’d probably find out sooner or later, but as of now, Kenma decided he wanted this to be something he kept to himself. </p><p>Taking out his console and mic, he began to record his first video. It was an indie game he wanted to play and bought a few weeks ago. The recording was a twenty-minute play through of the first chapter. Kenma took another twenty minutes downloading it onto his computer and posting it. He didn’t bother with editing it.</p><p>After he posted the video, Kenma thought about his promise to keep this to himself. He wanted to amend that promise.</p><p>Kenma quickly sent a text to Shouyou with a username and link and nothing else. </p><p>He received a short smiley face emoticon. </p><p>Kenma’s profile displayed one video, posted seventeen minutes ago with a grand total of three views, one like, and one subscriber.</p>
<hr/><p>It wasn’t long until the rest of the world caught up to the two boys who stood in the middle of the street.</p><p>Hinata watched as the new stranger appeared, a messy bedhead of dark hair, and led blond hair and black roots away to where they were supposed to be. He tried to ignore the pang his heart gave as he watched the boy he just met leave.</p><p>Sugawara found him soon after. He had been looking for him everywhere.</p>
<hr/><p>“You idiot!” The world stares at Kenma, who spoke with such unheard provocation, as he stares at his team. “The ball hasn’t dropped yet!”</p><p>Nekoma blinks, once, twice, thrice, before moving into action and following their setter’s orders. Even Karasuno freezes in surprise at the sight of unmotivated player suddenly giving out orders in the heat of the game. </p><p>It was a well known fact in the volleyball world that Kenma did not care enough about volleyball to go to these extremes. </p><p>Kenma ran, and with speed.</p><p>
  <em>This is painful. This hurts. Kenma doesn’t want it to ever end.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Training camp was something new. Exciting. <em>Dangerous.</em></p><p>The first night Kenma found himself walking the halls past dark, and with everyone else put asleep from tired muscles, Kenma was able to enjoy the quiet. </p><p>Hinata found him five minutes into his walk. He had woken up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. </p><p>Neither of them knew how it started. All they knew is that in the darkness and silence of the empty school hallway, their teammates far away in a slumber, the two of them exchanged lips. </p><p>It was scary. But they kept going back for seconds. Every night after everyone fell asleep, the two boys would meet each other in the still hallway. Few words were exchanged.</p><p>They kept their secret quiet, something only the moon and stars who watched through the window would ever know.</p>
<hr/><p>Battle of the trash heap, it was called. </p><p>A promise, it was known.</p><p>The two teams stood facing each other on opposite sides of the court. Anticipation was high, and the announcer was heard in the background, commenting on the tense rivalry and history between the two schools. </p><p>From each side of the court, players stared their opponents in the eye-- opponents who, outside this match, would remain their close friends. Some closer than others.</p><p>Hinata caught Kenma’s eye. Kenma felt himself smile such a genuine smile it surprised himself.</p>
<hr/><p><em>1:08 AM</em><br/>
<em>Kozume Kenma:</em><br/>
I think I love you.</p><p>
  <em> Message received.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Hinata stared at the setter after the practice match. He was really good for someone who was so uninterested.</p><p>Nekoma began packing their belongings up, gathering sweaty towels and empty water bottles. Their bus was waiting for them, so they made haste in their efforts to leave after Karasuno gave them a quick thanks. </p><p>Hinata watched as the team began to leave. </p><p>He watched as blond hair and black roots, as <em>Kenma</em>, began to leave.</p><p>“Wait!” </p><p>Without sparing any valuable time in questioning his decision, Hinata ran towards the setter from Nekoma. He startled, as did some of his teammates, as they watched Karasuno’s number ten approach. </p><p>Hinata stopped in front of Kenma. </p><p>“Can I get your number?”</p>
<hr/><p>Kenma didn’t want this. </p><p>Hinata sat in front of him, nervously picking at the skin surrounding his nail beds as he looked to his-- </p><p>“You want to go to Brazil? To play beach volleyball.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Kenma felt his heart skip a beat as dread entered him. </p><p>He didn’t want to be alone without Shouyou. Thinking about the concept-- the concept of Kenma’s life without a Shouyou in it-- sent dull aches of pain through his chest, and he felt his eyes watering. He blinked away the emotion, and took a deep breath that came out far too shaky for Hinata to not have heard.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Hinata blinked in surprised, his own eyes watering. “Okay?”</p><p>“If I said I didn’t want you to go, you wouldn’t. I know that. That’s why I have to say okay.”</p><p>“But--”</p><p>“You wouldn’t be the Shouyou I know and love if you didn’t want to do something as crazy as this.”</p><p>“But--”</p><p>Kenma placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, cutting him off again.</p><p>“Stay interesting.” </p><p>Tears were no longer able to be held back, and the both of them felt water slowly trace the shape of their cheek’s before resting at their chins. Hinata grabbed Kenma and hugged him tightly. Kenma felt his shirt dampen.</p><p>“I’m scared.” </p><p>Kenma released another shaky breath at the confession. “Of what?”</p><p>“I’m scared to leave everyone. To leave you.”</p>
<hr/><p><em>5:04 AM</em><br/>
<em>Hinata Shouyou:</em><br/>
My flight leaves in two hours!!!! I can’t wait to get back to Japan &lt;3!!! I also heard the MSBY Black Jackals are holding auditions the week after I get back. I think I’m going to go for it. What do you think?</p><p>
  <em> Message received.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>The two never spoke of what happened during the training camp. Their messages were awkward light-hearted conversations they had in efforts to beat around the bush. </p><p>Kenma stared at his ceiling. It was one in the morning, and Kenma found himself unable to sleep. He was too distracted with thoughts his mind kept supplying despite his wish for said thoughts to cease. His right brain did not listen to his left brain, and continued thinking about a ginger he knew under the night sky. </p><p>He came to a decision, and before his left brain could stop him again, Kenma pulled out his phone and wrote a message to Shouyou. </p><p>
  <em> I think I love you. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Kenma felt the sweat roll off his body. </p><p>He’s never put this much effort into a single match before. His muscles hurt and his lungs burned more than they ever had from the intensity with which he pushed his limits. He moved for the ball more than anyone had ever seen from him, and gave out calls with the eagerness of someone like Shouyou. </p><p>Kenma closed his eyes. </p><p>Nekoma lost the battle of the trash heap.</p><p>Once the referee blew his whistle, Kenma immediately fell to the ground. He panted, hard, and sprawled across the ground in an attempt to catch his breath. </p><p>The other players made similar actions, everyone intensely tired from intensely playing.</p><p>“Kuroo.”</p><p>His friend looked to him.</p><p>“Thank you for getting me into volleyball.”</p><p>His teammates held faces of surprise. Perhaps those were the words no one had ever expected to hear from him. Kenma was too tired to think about it. He eyed a certain ginger in the corner of his eyesight, who looked incredibly pleased with himself as he watched Kenma. </p><p>Kenma rotated his neck so he could look at Hinata. He grinned, a wide grin with teeth showing as his eyes crinkled, showing more emotion today than he had all year. </p><p>“That was fun.”</p>
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